


Lasso Lessons

by BawdryWeirdsley



Series: Arthur and Henry: A RDR Story [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Love, M/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdryWeirdsley/pseuds/BawdryWeirdsley
Summary: Arthur Morgan and Henry Williams have begun to build a life together, but Henry still has a lot to learn. When he makes trouble during a lasso lesson, Arthur decides to teach him something he won’t forget.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Character(s)
Series: Arthur and Henry: A RDR Story [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670575
Comments: 20
Kudos: 42





	Lasso Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CowboyTiedUp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowboyTiedUp/gifts).



They finished building the cabin four months back, and Henry Williams is beginning to look the part of a westerner, even if he hasn’t quite learned the skills yet. The hard work of digging holes and hauling logs has filled him out some. The muscles of his thighs stretch the worn dusty denim of his jeans, and his broadened shoulders fill out his shirt well enough. The newness has worn off his cattle boots, and his hat is as sun-faded and battered as Arthur’s own.

The way he handles the lasso however is pure east coast. 

“Low and slow,” Arthur says.

“I’m doin’ it low and slow! Any lower and slower, I’ll be sweeping the yard.”

“Perhaps you’d be better doin’ that?”

This earns Arthur a glower.

“No. I’ll learn how to do this. I just haven’t got the knack of it yet.”

“That’s for sure.”

Henry throws the lasso in a clumsy arc, capturing nothing more that the weeds to the left of the fence post he’s aiming for.

“Dammit!”

“Maybe take a break for a while?” Arthur suggests. 

“Nope. I’ll never learn if I don’t practice. Perhaps it’s the fence post?”

Arthur smiles. “Sure. The fence post. Sounds reasonable.”

Henry gives his shoulder a shove. “I mean, usually you’re trying to rope a moving target. Perhaps it’s harder this way?”

“It ain’t. It’s how I learned. Rope a fence post...”

“I know,” interrupts Henry. “Rope a fence post and you can rope a calf. But a fence post just stands there.”

“Which makes it easier.”

“Or impossible.” 

Arthur take the rope off Henry. “Hold it like this. Loose, and keep your hand turned or you’ll twist your rope.”

“I was.”

“No, you weren’t.” He starts to swing. “You want to line it up like your hand is knocking on the top of that fence post.”

He lets the loop fly and Henry groans as it lands neatly over the fence post.

“Lucky.”

“Not luck, practice. Practice and listening when you’re told.”

“I do listen,” says Henry.

“Hard to listen when you think you know it all.”

Henry gives him a narrow eye look. “Maybe you’re just a bad teacher, Art? Ever think of that?”

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “You want me to teach you a real, lesson, huh?”

Henry shrugs. “If you reckon you can do it.”

“First thing I ought to do is fix that smart mouth of yours,” says Arthur slowly. He knows that look from Henry, understands now why he’s been so squirrely all morning. They’ve been so busy lately that there hasn’t been much time to roll in the sheets, and it seems like Henry’s overdue. Of course he can never just ask, he always has to prod and needle until Arthur gives him the kind of treatment he needs.

Henry shrugs again. “If you reckon you can do  _ that _ .”

“Walk towards the barn,” Arthur says. He doesn’t need to change his tone to make Henry understand it’s more than a suggestion, and sure enough Henry does as he’s told, albeit with a swagger and his hands in his jean pockets.

“What am I meant to do when I get to the...”

The lasso drops over Henry’s head and shoulders neat as you like. Arthur yanks it tight as it drops past his knees, roping Henry’s legs together and pitching him on his face in the dirt.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Maybe a moving target  _ is _ easier,” Arthur remarks as he strolls towards Henry, who is sitting up and struggling free of the rope.

“I was barely walking. Doesn’t hardly count as moving.”

“Move a little faster then?” Suggests Arthur. “Tell you what, I’ll even give you a head start. Five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” Asks Henry.

“Five minutes until I come catch you. One swing only.”

Henry nods, slowly. “If you can.” He licks his lips “ And what happens if you do?”

“A whole heap of lessons, some of which you might not enjoy. Know in’ you though...”

“And what if you don’t catch me in one swing, oh wise teacher of mine?”

Arthur considers. “I’ll clean out the henhouse and the privy both for a month.”

Henry whistles. “That’s a hell of a wager. Fine. Five minutes, then.”

Arthur gives him more like ten, taking his time to saddle Princess. Henry’s easy enough to track, heading just where Arthur thought he would- into the pine woods that spill down the slope of the valley. Trickier to throw a rope in here, but not as tricky as Henry no doubt imagines.

He sees him as he trots Princess over the second rise, sliding down a bank of pine needles. Henry looks up at him and curses, then scrabbles onwards, bent low.

It reminds Henry of that other time he’d hunted him down, when Henry Williams was still that prim young lawman fixed on bringing him to justice. Less prim that’s he’d appeared, it turned out.

Princess winds her way down the bank, soon closing the distance between himself and Henry, who glances back at him as he runs, and almost sprawls headlong over a tree root.

“You ought to try weaving,” Arthur suggest. It’s harder if you weave at least.”

“Fuck you Art.”

Arthur chuckles and lets the rope drop. Not much space in here, but enough to start a tight swing.

“One shot, that’s all you get, remember?” 

“I remember.”

One shot is all it takes. He yanks the rope tight as it falls around Henry’s chest, and this time he keeps the rope tight, Henry slipping and staggering as Arthur urges Princess backwards, keeping up the slack. Once Henry’s off balance it’s easy enough to tumble him off his feet, and the Arthur’s leaping down from the saddle, kneeling on Henry’s back before he can regain his feet.

“Dammit, get off me!”

“Nope. This is part of the lesson. What do we do after we rope a calf?”

Henry swears.

“We don't do  _ that _ . Maybe in Boston they do, but we have better manners. Nope, we rope his legs so he can’t escape. But first...”

He rolls Henry over, and straddles his hips. His cock strains at the front of his jeans, just as Arthur knew it would, and he rubs his own stiffening prick against it just to hear Henry moan.

“You in a mood to learn now?” He asks.

Henry nods, all he’s capable of currently. 

“Glad to hear it. First lesson-humility. Never been one for it myself, but I reckon you could use a dose.”

Henry doesn’t try to stop him as he unbuttons his shirt and yanks it off him. He knows when he’s beaten. That particular lesson he had no trouble learning.

“Look at you. Eager to be taught, ain’t you?” he says, pinching at Henry’s stiff nipples. Henry hisses through clenched teeth as Arthur twists and teases, but his bunched fists stay where they are at either side of his head.

“Sensitive, huh? Bet we could wake them all the way up.”

He’d be hard pressed to pick his favorite part of his lover’s body, but his nipples have to be up there. Large for a man’s, pink and puffy around the areolas, and impossible not to pinch and torment, especially when it makes Henry squirm so nicely. He rolls them back and forth between his rough thumbs and forefingers until they’re stiff and swollen and Henry’s leaked a wet spot on the front of those tight blue jeans. 

“You got me distracted,” Arthur says finally. “I got a lesson to teach, don't I?”

Arthur bends down to claim a kiss before he climbs off Henry. Henry’s mouth is hot and eager, and he can’t wait to put it to use. That’ll wait though. He unbuckles Henry’s belt, and yanks his jeans down over his hips, laughing as his cock springs free.

“Part of you is woke up anyway.” Henry yelps as Arthur gives his cock a quick squeeze. He leaves his jeans peeled down around his thighs. Somehow it seems more entertaining to leave on his boots and his yanked-down jeans than stripping him completely bare just yet. The lasso is looped around his belly, and Arthur gives it a tug, then gathers up the tail and uses it to tie Henry’s knees and then ankles together. There’s more rope on his saddle, and he rolls Henry this way and that so he can secure his wrists behind him, and then his arms to his sides with the rope biting into the skin of his chest below his nipples.

“Jesus,” says Henry, spitting out a mouthful of pine needles. “You fixing to wind me up like one of them Egyptian kings?”

Henry plucks a pine needle of Henry’s cheek. “History ain’t the lesson we’re teaching today.”

“Is it botany then, I got pine needles where no man needs pine needles.”

“Botany?” asks Arthur. “If you like.” Henry’s protests put him in mind of a foolish prank Micah had played on a hungover Bill one time.  _ Bet he never mixed up mullein and nettles again when he needed the privy. _

He knows there are nettles nearby. They’ve cooked with them often enough.

“If I like? What do you mean by that?” Henry asks, suspicious.

“Don’t look so angry,” says Arthur. “This was your idea. Now where to stow you while I get your schoolroom ready?”

The pine tree they’ve fixed up under ought to do it. A stout branch juts out about twelve feet off the ground, and he knots his final rope length tightly around Henry’s ankles, before throwing the other end over it.

“Like hanging a deer,” Arthur remarks as he hauls on the end of the rope, dragging Henry along the ground. He doesn’t struggle until his feet are off the ground.

“Art, come on, I take back what I said about your teaching, okay?”

“Too late for that. I won the wager, so it’s time for school.”

Henry swears as he’s lifted off the ground.

“Come on, Art. Truce?”

He’d believe Henry’s pleading was genuine if his cock weren't still stiff as a poker.

“Look good like that, darlin’” Arthur says once Henry is dangling upside down from the branch. “Don’t reckon you’re going anywhere.”

Henry gives an experimental squirm. His body looks fine straining against the rope, but straining is all he’s able to do.

Arthur nods. “Hope you’re in a learnin’ mood. We got a lot to cover.”

**Author's Note:**

> Work is incredibly busy right now, so I’ve had to break this into two (or three?) chapters. The next one will be up ASAP.


End file.
